


Afraid to Say

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Angst, Challenge: another, First Times, M/M, Romance, Song Lyrics, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU story where Blair is raised in a society that is not tollerant of same-sex relationships. (Or, if you'd rather, Amish Blair :) )</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afraid to Say

**Author's Note:**

> There are several things that I must point out to the reader: 
> 
> 1) I like the Amish-- this story is _not_ to be seen as a criticism of them in any way. I tried to be as realistic as possible, but I may have been off a bit. As this story was written rather quickly, and there are no Amish list-sibs, I had to go on hear-say. 
> 
> 2) Blair and Jim are a bit younger in this story. Blair is around 25 and Jim is almost 30. This is mainly because Blair would have been married by his present age. 
> 
> 3) Blair's name has been changed for this story to Blair Jacobs. This is obviously because Sandburg sounded Jewish, and for the purpose of this story, Blair is Christian-- Amish to be exact. :) 
> 
> 4- This wasn't _exactly_ the baby of a challenge, but if readers will remember a discussion over the list about an Amish Blair...? The idea just stuck! 
> 
> 5- Finally, this story was not betaed. It was written as something to keep me occupied while I worked out plot holes in my main stories, and was finished in a hurry, so though I really love criticism, please keep this in mind. All feedback warmly accepted (and usually replied to) at palthanas@hotmail.com 
> 
> please enjoy!

## Afraid to Say

by Palthanas

Author's disclaimer: I would never delude myself into believing I owned them. I mean, _obviously_ I _don't_. If I _did_ there would be a lot less explosions and a lot more sex. Also, if I had tons of money, do you think I'd wast my time writing senslash fanfic? _heck_ no-- I'd buy the company and have the show give all the slash I needed.

* * *

"Ooo, these emotions I never knew  
Of some other world far beyond this place  
Beyond the trees, above the clouds  
I see before me a new horizon.... 

Come with me now to see my world  
Where there's beauty beyond your dreams  
Can you feel the things I feel  
Right now, with you?  
Take my hand  
There's a world I need to know...." 

  * Phil Collins/ Disney 'Strangers Like Me' 



There was something strangely quiet about the small village, as if the world held it's breath and waited. That was ridiculous, of course, but Blair Jacobs couldn't help the shiver that worked it's way down his spine, even as he could not keep his pace from increasing. "'Tis a night of witchery," the young man murmured to himself as he hurried across the village green, intent on arriving within the warmth and safety of his home. "Aye, a black night indeed." 

He jerked to a stop when the screaming began, his long brown curls swinging from his intent face. The screams were terrible and frightened, and Blair quickly scanned the green with his eyes, trying desperately to discern the origin of the sound. Lights were gradually flowing from once-darkened windows, and bearded men hurried out of their homes, their lanterns flickering fitfully in the cool night's air. 

The screams escalated, throbbing darkly as the pain became unbearable, and finally Blair realized that the screams were coming from the large community barn. He began to run, wanting to reach the aide of the one in pain, his mind swiftly turning over the possibilities. Could it be an animal? No, the screams were too human in nature, and female at that. So, maybe one of the villagers was being attacked by an animal? 

Throwing a quick praise to God that he had been traveling through the dark forest and had his hand bow with him, Blair finally reached the dark barn, made quasi-light by the swinging of the gathered lanterns. The men and boys of his village were gathered in the doorway, keeping him from entering, and they murmured amongst themselves fitfully. Every once in awhile, one of the elder's voices would say, "Must thou hurt this child? We pray thee, let her go." 

But the screaming would continue, underlaced by a soft, gruff laughter. Evil laughter. 

"What goes on?" Blair asked a youth standing to his right, one of his own age-mates, Johnston. "What is it that screams so?" 

"There is a female within," Johnston murmured back, making care that his voice was low and could not be over-heard by the men. "And also the man that we have been harboring for the night." 

"The outsider?" Blair turned his head to peer through the wall of black-clothed men, but his view was blocked. "But what does he do to her?" 

Before Johnston could answer, the girl's voice rose again in pain and sobbing tears, and she choked out a pleading "Father!" 

Blair's head jerked up, his eyes going round in shock. "That is my sister!" he cried out, gripping his friend's arm painfully. "That is Hope!" 

He was deaf to the other boy's reply as he began to shove through the sea of bodies, for once not caring to show the proper respect to his elders. All he knew was the filling need to reach his sister and to keep her from the need to scream. His perfect, beautiful Hope.... 

Blair wasn't prepared for the sight that met his eyes. 

The man whom they had given shelter for the night was bent over the fiercely writhing body of his sister, his pants down around his knees and his cock thrusting deep within her whimpering and screaming form. Blood flowed down the juncture of their bodies, seeping darkly into the dirt and hay of the barn floor. His face was twisted with sick delight and desire, and he resembled nothing more than a demon sent from the Father of Lies. 

Blair was frozen at the front of the crowd, his never-blinking eyes staring horrified at the creature that abused the soft, supple flesh of his sister, his heart shuddering to an almost-stop at the indescribable horror of the moment. 

And then Hope threw back her head and sobbed out, "Help me!" and Blair's heart lept back into a furious thudding as he watched her long brown curls, so like his own, be pulled back by thick, dirty hands as the devil sucked and bit at her white throat. 

Red filled his vision, seeping through his senses and obliterating everything else. The feeble pleas of the elders of his village drifted back to the outermost recesses of his brain as he roared his fury, body coiling to charge forward and rescue Hope from the arms of the Devil. 

Yet, as his body gained momentum, a vise-like grip slipped about his waist and yanked him back to the solidarity of the wall of men. "No, my son," his father said softly, his arms holding Blair back. "Thou must not." 

"He is _killing_ her!" Blair roared in fury, his mind forgotten as he struggled fiercely against the restraints of his father. "We must help her." 

"We may only be of aide to thy sister in our prayers," the older man said in a soft, even tone. "We must not raise a hand to harm the stranger." 

Blair snarled helplessly, tears stinging his eyes as Hope began to struggle less and less. "She will _die_ , Father," he snarled, the tears washing freely over his smooth, boyish cheeks. "If we do not aide her, she will _die_." 

"Then it will be God's will." 

Blair could not hear the gruff sadness of his Father's tone-- all he could hear was the acceptance that colored his voice and the faces of those elders that pleaded with the Devil to let Hope loose. Acceptance and loss: they had already given up. 

And as Blair watched his sister's raper tangle his hands in her thick brown curls and twist her neck savagely to the side, he recognized the fury that burned within his chest and was afraid: he could find no acceptance. 

And as the Devil moved away and exited through the parting sea of bodies, bodies that did nothing to halt or stay him, Blair stared into the blank eyes of the body of his rapidly cooling sister and felt something break loose inside of him. 

And then he felt nothing at all. 

"Ellison! In my office, now!" 

Jim looked up from his computer screen at the barked command of his senior officer, a wry grin crossing his face. "I wonder what ole Banks wants now?" he muttered to himself as he saved his work and stood, knowing deep inside that he probably didn't want to know. His captain was on a continual crusade to 'brighten him up a bit,' even though, ironically, that brightening up always seemed to include some crack-pot investigation that a child could easily handle. 

Sighing, Jim ran a hand through his short hair as he passed through Bank's doorway and into the office. Considering how he was at the moment, how he had been ever since Rafe's death three and a half months back, that was an apt description. 

"Ah, Jim," Simon looked up from the papers strewn across his desk, a faintly surprised look flickering across his dark features. It never failed to amuse Jim how his superior could bawl out for hiu to 'get the hell in here!' but almost look confused a moment later when he entered the office, almost as if he hadn't been expecting you. "Why don't you sit down?" 

That wasn't a good sign. Sighing again and shutting the door, Jim quickly catalogued in his mind all the busy-work cases that might possibly be in Simon's hands. A local scuff at the day care center? A run-of-the-mill bank robbery? Something even more demeaning for a former brilliant cop perhaps? 

"Maybe you've heard news of a murder not too long ago," Simon began as he handed the papers across the desk to Jim. "A young woman, age thirteen. The case was reported in to us by an annonomose source three days ago." He nodded towards the scrawled letter. 

Jim studied the paper for a moment before looking up. "A prank, perhaps?" 

"We are keeping that in mind. However, the higher ups decided that this needed investigation, so...." 

"So you're sending me to take care of what is most likely a misinformation in a..." he paused and checked the location, "in an Amish community? Come on, Simon, I may be unreliable now, but I'm not senile." He tossed the papers on the desk in front of him, a contemptuous sneer crossing his features. "I can handle a bigger case." 

"I know that, Jim." Surprisingly, Simon's voice was gentle. Or, perhaps, not surprisingly-- everyone around the PD had been treating him with kiddy gloves ever since... since Rafe died. Jim swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as the yawning emptiness opened up within him, and he fought to smother it savagely, not wanting to feel the void that was torn into his very soul. "But the higher ups.... They're not so sure that you can be trusted yet. You have been rather... unreliable since Rafe passed away." 

Jim snorted softly. He'd been crazy, that's what. 

"And they don't want to take the chance of giving you anything major yet, just in case...." 

"Just in case I can't handle it without my Guide to hold my hand?" Jim's voice was bitter, but resigned. Hell, even he knew that, without the other man to anchor him, he could easily get lost within the workings of a case. 

"We are all grieved that he's dead, Jim," Simon went on, trying another tactic. "Hell, Jim, we all lost a friend, Megan lost a husband.... We understand what you are going through. We know that your senses...." 

"You know nothing!" Jim snarled, briefly enraged by the sanctimonious bull shit that was pouring from the older man's mouth. He stood suddenly, sending the chair toppling over with a loud crash. In the bullpen, several heads lifted at the furious voice raging within, but they quickly went back to their work, oblivious: Jim shouting crazily was standard procedure by this point. "Nothing! He was my Guide, Simon! My _Guide_! We were... we were bonded together by this whole Sentinel shit-- my panther to his hawk. I couldn't-- can't-- work without him. It's like everything's screwy, everything's tilted to the side. Colors are off, smells are unrecognizable. Sounds.... I'm going insane here, Simon, because he's not here to ground me anymore, so don't _fucking_ tell me that you understand!" He pounded his fists onto the table, his face suffused with red. Then, suddenly, all color drained from his face as he staggered back into the chair, sitting roughly into it as a hand reached out to rub at throbbing temples. 

"The same pain again?" Simon didn't need the curt nod. "Jim, something has to be done about this. You're falling apart." 

Jim snorted softly, then winced. "Well, if you think posting an add in the newspaper for a mystic Guide will work, I'm all for it." 

"What about the spirit vision? What about the wolf?" 

Jim shook his head slowly, pulling his hands away from his pained head. "That was just a dream, Simon. There is no wolf." 

"But in your visions before, you saw yourself as a panther and Rafe as a hawk. Perhaps you're seeing another Guide?" When Jim shook his head again, Simon persisted. "Why not?" 

"Because it was just a dream." He was tired and drained. The yawning blackness had won again. Sighing, Jim leaned forward and picked up the Amish file, standing as he did so. "I'll get right on this, Simon. We'll know if it's a prank of not within a week." Then, with a small smile, Jim left the office. 

Leaving Simon alone to shake his head and whisper, "What a shame," knowing that even as with his acute senses, Jim would not hear him. 

"What a damn shame." 

The country-side was absolutely beautiful this time of year. It was wonderfully cool everywhere you went, but not cold enough to keep you inside near the heater. Or, Jim mused as he drove up the twisting dirt road, cooking fire as the case may be. 

He shook his head as he passed by yet another black-clad bearded man walking an ox-driven cart, a small smile quirking his lips. There was something ridiculous about the Amish, at least in his city-bred mind. It was impossible for him to figure why anyone would deliberately give up on the comforts of life and live in a colorless closed community, vowing against electricity or telephones or any of the advancements of the twentieth century. 

Deciding against driving all the way into the small village, Jim parked the truck out of the traffic of the road, leaving the doors unlocked with a wry shrug. He was in an Amish village after all-- who exactly was going to steal his truck? Smiling slightly, Jim shoved his hands into the rough denim of his jeans and strolled down the rutted dirt road and into the center of the little town. 

He was at first struck by the sameness of everything-- every house was exactly the twin of it's neighbors, except in a few cases where the doors were painted a dark green. Knitting his brows together, Jim slowed his pace as he checked out those houses, his mind working furiously. Green doors? Why on Earth would an Amish man paint his door green? And why were there only a couple of houses with green doors, scattered without seeming pattern throughout the community? 

Jim was so caught up in the study of the houses that he didn't see or hear the man come up behind him. "Welcome, friend," a soft voice declared, and Jim turned in surprise to see a.... Well, a black-clad bearded man. ~Shit, I'm never going to be able to tell these people apart!~ 

"Uh- hi." What did one say to an Amish guy? Nice goat you got there? How is it living in the dark ages? 

"I am Abraham- does thou have a place to lie thy head?" 

Jim blinked and tried not to grin. Knowing that these people talked like a King James translation of the Bible and actually hearing it being spoken with abject seriousness were two very different things. "Um, no, not really. You see, I'm here to investigate the report of a recent mur...." 

"Then thou shall sleep within my household if that pleases thou." The older man motioned for Jim to follow him. 

Shrugging philosophically, Jim fell in step with Abraham. "My name is Jim," he tried again, "and I'm a member of the Cascade Police. I was sent here to investigate a claim of murder. Do you know anything about it?" 

Abraham looked at him serenely, his wise dark eyes deep and fanthomeless. "I know nothing but what Adoni chooses to impart on me." Jim blinked, a bit confused. What? He decided to try another tactic. 

"This village-- I've noticed that some doors are painted green. Why?" That, at least, the old man couldn't wriggle out of. 

"The doors of the fathers with daughters who are ripe for marriage and motherhood are painted green to show the men of the village that the father is prepared to accept their suits. This is done only when the father of the girl feels that she is ready for marriage." 

Jim nodded, not really listening, his gaze skating over the village green at all the darkly-clad men and women. "I see. When is a girl usually decided to be ready to get married?" 

"The age differs on the father's wisdom, but she is generally twelve or thirteen years." 

~Thirteen?~ Jim stared at the man, his mind wondering briefly if he was joking, but he seemed to be in all seriousness. ~Thirteen years old? I was just leaving my 'girls have kudees' phase at around thirteen!~ "And the males?" 

"Ah, that is different. Our sons marry when they are able to support a family on their own." Still, that was an age difference there! But, Jim figured, he wasn't here to bust anyone for statutory rape. 

Abraham was continuing with his gentle lecture, but Jim was no longer listening. Instead his eyes were roving over the small green in the center of the village and the people within it. If the information was correct, one of these men-- or, perhaps woman, but Jim doubted that-- may have killed a young girl. He studied each figure, his eyes going from the bearded men of the community to the clean-shaven unmarried youths, each figure just like the last. Yup, another busy-work assignment for crack-pot Jim Ellison. 

Then his eyes fell on a particular youth, secluded a bit from the crowd of his age-group. Jim couldn't tell what it was about the young man that had attracted his attention, but he felt his gaze riveted to the slouched, dejected body posture and waterfall of brown curls that brushed against the black-clad shoulders. There was something... different about him. Compelling. 

Then the youth raised his head and looked straight into his eyes over the distance of the green, and Jim felt his heart shudder to a stop. 

It wasn't the strange beauty of the face that made his hands shake, even though he recognized the odd but pleasing mix of features with appreciation. It was more of a sense of... knowing him somehow. It was _recognition_ and something more. Something deeper. Over the distance between them, Jim could almost see the eyes gleam golden and the brown hair shine gray, like the shaggy hide of a wolf. And then the vision was gone, leaving just the boy in it's place. 

Shaking his head to clear it of it's jumbled voices, Jim followed his host inside one of the houses, thankful for the shadowy interior. The room was simple and poor-looking, but it was clean and pleasant and seemed... happy. Almost as if nothing could happen in a place such as this. 

Which was, of course, a lie. 

"This be my wife, Nora," Abraham said as a plump woman stepped into the room. "She is the mother of my five children." 

"God is surely shining upon us to send thou to us," she smiled at him with genuine warmth. "We do not have much, but what we have we shall share with thou with joy in our hearts." Somehow, Jim didn't doubt that. 

"Thank you- it's very kind...." 

"Did not the Lord say that he who doth this for the lowest of my people doth this for me?" Jim was glad Abraham's question was rhetorical-- he wasn't sure that he'd be able to answer. "Thou shall be well cared for in our household." 

"Thanks. But, I have a few questions I need to ask of you...." 

Several hours later, Jim was almost ready to give up. He had approached many of the villagers, both men and woman, child and adult, and all that he had received from his troubles were vague statements of God's forgiveness and love. No-one seemed to recognize the name Hope, or even acknowledge the possible murder of such a girl. There was no evidence, so suspect, and, even more frustrating, no proof that there had even been a murder! He didn't even know where this supposed crime had accurred! It was hopeless. 

Suddenly, Jim felt the small hairs on the back of his neck raise, and he turned to see a youth with a cloud of curly brown hair slip in through the open doors of the community barn. 

Without a thought, Jim hurried across the green to the barn, stepping through it's doors and entering the half-light within. Hay covered the pounded dirt floor and piles of hay lined the upper sections, a stray golden piece drifting down every once in a while to the floor. Tools hung up along the walls, and oxen and horses stamped impatiently in the stalls. The smell of animal and hay-- a rather pleasing scent, actuallyfilled the air to the exclusion of everything else. 

Glancing around the bottom floor, Jim realized that the boy was not there. Either he had climbed up into the piles of hay above, or he had slipped out some back door. 

Feeling foolish for following him, Jim turned to head out of the door when he felt something suddenly ripple through him. He couldn't explain exactly what it was-- it was like fire, but as also so cold it caused him to shiver. It was wonderful and terrible. It was inexplicable. 

"Who are you?" Jim breathed to the still air, almost expecting the young man to step out of the shadows and approach him. There was a connection that was flaring so bright within him that he could barely breath. 

And then, with a suddenness that was almost terrible, Jim smelled it. 

Blood and semen, each mixed together, hidden beneath the over-powering scent of animal flesh and hay. It was faint, as if wherever it had fallen had been thoroughly cleaned, but still he could smell it with his sharp Sentinel senses, clear and unmistakable. 

Which lead him to an important question: how exactly had his senses kicked back on-line? He had thought that they were gone, after his Guide had passed away, and feeling them strong and alive within him after so long.... It was a bittersweet homecoming. 

But he couldn't think on that any longer: he had a job to do. 

Tracking down the origin of the smell was simple, and soon Jim was on his hands and knees, removing the straw and hay from the earthen floor. There was a faint darkness in the area that he had uncovered, slightly different from the rest of the packed dirt in color, and Jim felt a rush a knowledge that it _had_ happened. Someone called Hope _had_ been murdered in this village- the letter had been telling the truth. 

Which led to why none of the villagers would admit to that. 

Shaking his head, Jim re-covered the patch of earth and got to his feet, dusting off the knees of his pants with a sigh. He had a lot more questioning to do, it seemed. And this time, he wasn't going to take half-truths and vague religious mumbling for an answer. Moving with a determined stride, Jim left the cool quiet of the barn. 

And in the hay loft, Blair Jacobs watched the compelling stranger leave with a small smile on his face. 

Hope was going to rest in peace after all. 

Jim knew that he was being followed long before he let his knowledge show. He could hear it in the breath that tagged along as he questioned and re-questioned villagers, becoming more and more irritated that nobody was giving him straight answers. As he figured it, either they were all stupid, or they were all covering something up. Somehow, he suspected the latter. 

But the one who was following him.... This person was definitely good, for no matter how hard he tried, he could not catch of glimpse of them. So, finally, irritated beyond any form of patience by the reticence of the villagers and wanting to find a convenient out-pouring for his anger, Jim moved behind a vacant house at the very edge of the little town and waited. 

He didn't have to wait long, for soon he could hear the soft crunching of grass and the steady hear-beat of his follower. Moving swiftly and silently, Jim reached out around the corner and drew the startled figure back into the shadow of the house with him, pressing the struggling figure up strongly against the wall. 

"Why have you been following me?" Jim snarled, furious, until he was suddenly looking into the clear blue eyes of the strange youth, and all the anger seeped out of him. 

"I meant thee no harm," the young man protested, his soft, low voice twisting something deep inside of Jim. The voice was... familiar. "I only desired to help thee." 

"Is that why you led me to the barn?" Jim let the boy go, but he didn't move away, and the young Amish man didn't ask him too. He could feel the heat rising from the near body. 

"Aye- the others were not helping thee, and I wished to do what I could." He reached out with a stray hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. "My name is Blair. Blair Jacobs." 

"And I'm...." 

"Jim Ellison, Cascade Police Department." Blair smiled at Jim's surprised face. "I did some research on thee last time I was in Cascade." 

"And that would have been...?" Jim queried, curious to know what had led an Amish man out into the city. 

Blair smiled, his interesting face brightening. "My father became convinced that one of his children should have some higher schooling in case our village ever had to deal with the outside world. Since I am the eldest, and the only one who wanted to go, I was chosen to go to a university in the city to learn." 

"I see." Jim couldn't help smiling back at the other man, almost as if his happiness was a direct reflection of the other's. "And why exactly did you look me up?" 

Blair's face clouded suddenly. "I had done some research in an old book about an explorer and scientist, which was how I became interested in thee. Every person in Cascade spoke of thee as a Sentinel and a super-human, and I desire to see the man that God had so gifted. Later, when Hope died, I knew that thou were the only one who could help." 

"So you were the one who sent the letter." 

"Yes," Blair began, "I...." 

"Blair Jacobs." The sudden masculine voice startled Blair, causing him to jump back from Jim as if they were doing something shameful. He turned to face the older man who was just coming around the corner, smile on his old, weathered face. 

"I am here, father." 

"Ah." The graying man neared them, his eyes flickering over to Jim briefly. "I have been looking for thee for a quarter now; Charity is waiting for thee." 

Blair blushed darkly, as if he had forgotten something that should have been important. "I apologize, Father. I had forgotten." 

"It is not I that thou should apologize to, my son, but your bride." He smiled gently, then nodded to Jim and headed off. 

Blair watched him go, his teeth chewing nervously on his bottom lip until he was out of sight. Then he turned back to Jim. "I am afraid that I must leave now, but I shall speak with thee later. There are many things that I must say to thee." 

"I understand." Something was bothering Jim, something that made his heart churn even as he berated himself for being foolish. "So," he began, trying to sound casual, "you're married?" 

"No!" Blair seemed flustered at his own vehement response, and he hurried to cover the awkward silence. "I mean to say, I am promised to a girl in the village. I _shall_ be married within a year, but now I am... not." He trailed off, looking adorable and confused, and Jim bit back a smile at the other man's discomfort. Suddenly Blair looked up into his eyes, and Jim's heart froze again at the connection he felt singing through his veins. "I must go to the bridal feast- I am late." he took a step away, only to pull back into Jim's personal space, much closer than Jim would have ever let anyone else. Tentatively, Blair placed a hand on his arm. "Will thou come?" 

The light was shining on the halo of brown curls, making strands of blond and red shine from within. The eyes really were an incredible shade of blue, deep like calm pools deep within the jungle.... 

"All right." It was an involuntary answer-- he had meant to say no, no thank you. But something... there was something compelling him. Some inner growling voice that he never denied. 

"All right." 

He didn't know exactly what he expected from an Amish bridal feast, but it most definitely wasn't what he got. 

For one, every one seemed so... well, it was hard to describe. It was like there was joy there, but there was also a somber note that ran throughout the entire dinner. Jim couldn't really see that it was anything but a gathering of the village in the green, except that three couples seemed to be the center of attention. Blair looked uncomfortable under all those eyes, and his gaze kept flickering over to meet Jim's. The girl who sat beside him was young-- much younger than Blair. Jim figured that if Blair was twenty-five or twenty-six, she was fifteen or sixteen. And she was pretty in a conventional way, though nothing like Blair's own gloriously odd beauty, but her eyes were sweet and very... vacant. It was obvious that she did not have Blair's great intelligence, and Jim struggled to imagine Blair spending his life talking to this frail shadow. It didn't compute. 

Everybody was cordial to him, but no-one was openly friendly. Jim had to shove back the desire to scream several times during the dinner when his questions were gently shunted aside. But, every time he grew irritated to the point of doing something rash, he would meet Blair's eyes over the heads of the others and find a center of calm. 

He did, however, notice something odd when they left the green and made the rounds of the three couple's houses. All of the girl's houses had the green doors, of course, but a brown strip had been painted over the green. This wasn't so odd, Jim figured, considering that they were engaged and thus no longer available, but when he arrived at Blair's house, something caught his attention. 

He had been looking closely at the house, memorizing for some reason that he did not want to fathom, when he noticed suddenly how new the coat of brown pain was. And, when he drew closer, his sight sharpening and narrowing down on the wood, he could see the green paint laying beneath the brown. 

But Blair's father only claimed to have two boys and one young girl, too young to have been considered available.... 

He met Blair's eyes over the distance, his own face a question, and suddenly he _knew_. The sadness within the other's man gaze made sense to him finally, and Jim's chest tightened in empathy. 

He knew what it was to hurt. 

Jim was awoken by a voice softly calling his name. 

"Jim!" it whispered on the edge of his consciousness. "Jim!" Jim sat up, rubbing his eyes. It was still very dark outside, and the rest of Abraham's household was still asleep. At first he was tempted to stay where he was, but then the call came again, so quiet that normal ears would not be able to hear, and Jim stood from his mat on the floor, as able to not answer that cry as he was able to chose not to breath. 

Blair was waiting for him at the doorway, and he quickly covered his mouth with a finger, motioning for Jim to follow. He led him past the sleeping houses, the light from the stars making the way clear to Jim as they neared the barn. 

Blair scrambled up the ladder to the hay loft and settled back into a comfortable mound as he waited for Jim to join him. The wonderful smell of hay and horse flesh filled the air, and Jim breathed the scent in deeply as he settled down across from the other man, aware as he did so of the sweet undercurrent that tickled at his nose. Something near.... 

"My people have always taken in those who wander," Blair began his tale, his fingers tangled about each other. "That is who we are. We give them food and a bath and a place to lay their head. Usually we are repaid in thanks and good." His features darkened as he spoke his next words. "Sometimes we are repaid in evil. The man was a drifter, moving from town to town in search for something that he never named. He stayed with us for several days and nights, and we welcomed him with hospitality." He sucked in a deep breath, and Jim found himself reaching out compulsively to grasp the younger man's hand. 

He froze as their skin made contact, his stomach flipping wildly as he looked within Blair's eyes, waiting for the other man to pull his hand away. But he never did-- instead he tightened his grip on Jim's, as if he were taking comfort from the physical contact. 

"I had been in the city for a couple of days, so I was not around him much. I only knew that I did not like him, and that shamed me. It was the night that I was returning that it happened. As I was walking through the green to my house, I heard screaming coming from this barn." His voice grew thick, and he cleared his throat roughly. "I ran to see what was going on, but by that time the door was already filled with men. They were calling out for him to please stop, but he would not stop. Oh, God, Jim, it was my sister! And I pushed through and _saw_ her, and he was.... He...." he came to a choking stop, and Jim held on for all that he was worth, trying to convey through his grip that he was there for him. "He was raping her, Jim," Blair whispered brokenly, his eyes gazing off into the distance and remembering the horror. "And I tried to run forward to help her, but my father.... My father would not let me. He said that it was God's will, and that I could not fight against Him. I wasn't supposed to do anything but sit aside and watch her get killed. And that's what I did-- that's what we all did. We just stood there, and... and...." He was sobbing now, his words choking on his furious tears. "I was not even to write to thee-- the police should not be brought into this, the elders would say. It is in God's hands." He looked up through a veil of tears. "Did I do wrong? Am I being unfaithful for wanting this man to be put away so that he cannot hurt another Hope? She was so young, Jim...." 

"You did perfectly right," Jim murmured, closing the distance between them and drawing the other man into the protective circle of his arms. His heart lept, but he ignored it, intent on comforting Blair. "With your identification and your testimony, we can lock him up for good." 

"I am so glad," Blair whispered, pressing his face into Jim's warm shoulder. "So glad." 

Jim began to rock the crying man, his own face dampening slightly with tears. This felt _so_ _right_.... 

"So glad." 

Jim drove down the old dirt lane, his eyes lifting up to the rear-view mirror constantly to look at the swiftly dwindling figure back behind him. Somehow, he felt like he was losing something quite valuable as he drove away, and the feeling gnawed at his gut all the way to the city. 

"You're being stupid, Ellison," he muttered gruffly to himself. "It's just a kid." 

Yet still, there was something undefineable about the Amish youth, something Jim knew that he needed. In his presence, for one, Jim's Sentinel senses operated perfectly, like they did when Rafe was there to Guide him. So, did this mean that Blair Jacobs was his new Guide? Was that even possible-- he had understood that there was one Guide for every Sentinel, and Rafe had been that. Hadn't he? 

And yet, Jim couldn't deny the facts; there _was_ something between them, something that drew them together inexplicably. And his senses _had_ come back on-line when he was around the kid. Not to mention the strange vision of Blair as a wolf.... 

"That was just a dream," Jim growled to himself, putting the truck in gear. The panther, the hawk, and the wolf.... 

"Just a dream." 

Somehow, that no longer seemed as convincing as it once did. 

"It is a lovely day, is it not, Blair?" 

Blair blinked back from his daydream, trying to shake the cobwebs from his rattled brain. He had been watching the road to the village for three days now, and never so much in his life had he yearned for something as simple as a telephone. Had he found him? Was he coming back soon? Jim had said that it would not be long before he returned, but the days were stretching on like forever for the young man, and still there was no Jim. 

"Yes- beautiful." He turned back to his betrothed, determined to pay attention to her. Her sweet, vacant face was smiling at him as she poured him a cup of milk, and he made himself smile back at her, even though all he wanted was to get up and leave. There was nothing he could ever find to say to her-- she didn't care about the things he found fascinating. In fact, when he had once whispered to her that he had studied Anthropology at the college, she had stared at him with a blank look on her face. 

A lifetime of talking about the weather? For some reason, that didn't seem palatable to Blair anymore. He had been resigned to his fate, knowing that this was the girl that his father had chosen for him and he should be grateful, but now.... Now he felt that there was much, much more that he could have. 

Ever since Jim came.... 

"It has been a lovely run of weather, do not thou think?" 

Blair recognized the perversity of his own emotions even as he answered. "No, actually, it has been a terrible couple of days." 

"Ah," she nodded wisely, "yes, it has. The weather could not be worse." She handed him a perfectly laden plate of berries and bread. 

Blair wanted to scream, to throw the dish away from him, to do anything to let his emotions out. She felt nothing for herself-- all she ever did was agree with him, even when she had said the exact opposite before! Blair was sure that if he said 'dogs rain from Heaven' she would only nod and say 'aye, so they do.' 

He opened his mouth, not sure of what he was going to say, only knowing that he had to say something. He had to stop this! Then he heard the noise of a truck in the near distance, and his gaze jerked back to the road where he could see the vehicle being parked down along the side of the road. 

"Excuse me," he murmured as he rose, not even waiting for her reply. He began to walk towards the truck, and by extension, Jim, but he couldn't get his legs to move fast enough. Within a few steps, Blair's pace had increased to a trot and then to a full run, and his heart lept strangely as the man moved around to the other side of the vehicle, his hand raised in greeting. 

"Jim!" Blair grinned as he stumbled to a halt before the other man. Jim put a steadying hand on his shoulder, the large fingers warm against his clothed skin, and Blair looked up into those blue eyes and forgot all questions that he had-- he just stared. 

They stayed that way for a long moment, their bodies swaying together as each looked within the eyes of the other, unable to move away. Then, finally, Jim cleared his throat, and Blair snapped out of his trance. "We-- ahem-- we have a panel of suspects," Jim began gruffly, "and we need you to come to the PD to ID them." 

"Come to the Police Department?" Blair's eyes were wide with wonder. He had never been able to go inside that austere building, even though he had wanted to so much. 

"Yes-- will you?" Jim's face was intense, as if he were waiting for judgment or redemption. 

Blair hesitated and glanced over his shoulder, unsure. The village spread out before him, slow and perfect and peaceful. And dull. The vision of Charity spread through his mind, long hours of talking with nothing to say. Then he looked at Jim. "Aye, I will come with thee," he replied, already reaching for the truck door. "But we must go now." 

Jim grinned, a huge, broad, happy grin. "Sounds great!" he exclaimed as he hurried around to the drivers side, climbing in and shutting the door as Blair fastened his seat-belt. He glanced over at the other man, his grin increasing and almost swallowing his face. "Let's go!" 

Together, they drove off towards the city of Cascade, leaving Blair's quiet village behind. 

"That is the man." Blair's voice was deep and grave as he said the words, and his hand shook slightly as he pointed down the line-up at the man who had raped and killed his thirteen-year-old sister. "Number five." 

"Are you sure?" Simon looked down at the smallish Amish man doubtfully, his eyes skating back over to Jim. Jim was standing awfully close to the boy, one hand pressed reassuringly into the small of his back. In fact, Jim was acting differently, oddly, and Simon shook his head as he watched the two. Something was going on here. 

"Aye, I am sure; that is he." 

Simon nodded briskly. "All right, we'll begin the paper-work and get this ball rolling. You are, I assume, going to testify against him in court?" Blair paused, unsure, and glanced up at Jim. At Jim's reassuring smile, he nodded briefly. "Good. Then you are free for now-- we'll send you more information as the court date approaches." With a brisk nod, Simon headed out of the small room. 

"You did a good job," Jim said after he had gone. "It's hard to have to do this." Out of it's own accord, his hand began to rub small, soothing circles against the small of Blair's back. 

Blair turned his head to look at him, a wan smile across his face. "Aye, it was difficult, but thou made it easier for me." 

Jim could barely swallow past the lump in his throat as they began to walk out of the room and towards the exit. It was time for Blair to go back now, but something inside of him was rebelling-- he didn't want to take him back. He wanted him to stay right here, with him. 

"Hey, Blair." Jim's voice strove to be strong, but he was unsure of himself. "Do you want to go out for some lunch and maybe see a bit of the town?" Of course Blair had seen the city before-- or, at least, the part of the city near Rainier University. 

Blair almost spoke over him in his eagerness to reply. "Sure! I would love to." 

Jim found himself grinning stupidly at the other man, glad beyond reason that Blair had agreed. "All right- great." Surprising himself, he reached out for a brief second to squeeze Blair's hand. "Wonderburger, here we come!" 

Blair stared around him, his eyes shining as he saw something that was a piece of the strong, gentle man beside him. "Is this where thou comes to be alone?" Blair murmured, motioning around at the still forest. The clearing was sunbathed and peaceful-- something Blair doubted that Jim had in his life very often. It was so incongruous with the man he knew, yet somehow it fit. 

"Yes. When I need to get away from everything else, I come here. Sometimes being a Sentinel came be too much; people often come up to me on the streets and stare, or ask me to show them my 'trick.' " His voice took on a slightly bitter tone. "I'm like a circus freak sometimes.... Well, except lately." He barked a laugh as he lay down on the warm grass. "Ever since I've lost control of my abilities, it's like I've become disabled or handicapped. People look at me with pity, or not at all." 

"And that pains thee," Blair stated softly as he lay down next to the larger man, their sides almost touching. "Thou wants to be strong for them." 

"Yes...." Jim trailed off and closed his eyes tight. "Ever since Rafe died, my senses have been unreliable. Sometimes they'd kick in, but only as if I were looking at everything through a gauzy veil. Sounds were muffled, smells were off, everything was wrong. And then there were the long periods of time when my senses were just like everybody else's, and it was like I was blocked off from the world. I guess I'd gotten so used to having them that they became natural for me." 

"And now?" Blair's voice was a breathy murmur. "Has anything changed?" 

Jim turned on his side to look down at the beautiful face below him, his eyes serious. "Now everything has changed." Slowly, so slow that he was unaware that he was doing it, Jim began to lean down towards the other man. 

"I am glad," Blair whispered, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. "I am so gl...." 

Their lips brushed softly one against the other, and Blair closed his eyes at the indescribable feeling of another person being this close. He had never felt something like this before; it was.... It was beautiful. 

Jim pulled away slightly, his face still mere inches from Blair's, his eyes searching out the gaze of the other man. Blair's eyes flickered open as the gentle pressure ceased, and he looked up into the face so near above him and breathed a gentle "Jim." 

That was all it took. Sighing deeply, Jim leaned forward again and pressed his lips against Blair's, his own eyes closing in the thrumming emotion that flooded his body. He could feel the warmth against his skin, smell the fresh cleanliness of the body beneath him, and taste.... Wanting to experience more, taste more, Jim opened his mouth, pleased when Blair automatically opened his own mouth, as if on instinct. Wanting to have everything, Jim deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue down gently in the other man's mouth, pressing his body flush against Blair's. Blair gasped low in his throat at the double invasion, and he began tangling his hands in Jim's hair as he thrust up his tongue, trying to press deep into the older Sentinel. 

Jim trace his hands down Blair's chest, fingers scatting almost accidentally over the sensitive nipples. Blair gasped and moaned deeply as Jim came back to the small, swiftly puckering flesh, his fingers lightly pinching and rubbing the hardened nubs through the thick material of Blair's shirt. 

Blair gasped and began to writhe, thrusting his hips up involuntarily against Jim's leg. The twitching hardness of Blair's growing erection was evident, and Jim smiled softly as he continued to plunder the sweet mouth, hands snaking downwards to brush across the thickening mound. 

Blair choked back a cry and pulled his mouth away, his breaths coming hard and fast as Jim began to run trailing fingers teasingly across the hot length of his cock, exerting enough pressure to make him cry out in fierce pleasure, but not enough to send him over the edge. Blair's breath was sobbing throughout his body, his hips lifting to a deep rhythm as he began to thrust up against the older man. Jim stilled him with a gentle hand against his hip as he positioned his own body flush against Blair's, his larger frame covering the smaller man. Then, with an eager smile, he pressed his own tightened groin against the other man's, his groan making a deep counter-part to Blair's startled gasp. 

Then, with Jim's guiding hands, they began to thrust again, one against the other, their hard cocks sliding achingly across one another, causing shudders to run throughout their fevered bodies. They lips met and clung, tongues raking desperately across each other as they both strained towards completion. 

Suddenly, Blair tore his mouth away, letting loose an anguished cry as he flung his head to the side. "No!" 

Jim stilled his body immediately, ignoring the fierce need that coiled within his stomach. "Blair?" 

"This is wrong," Blair sobbed out, his face twisting in pain. "I should not be doing this with thee-- it is wrong!" 

"Calm down, Blair," Jim whispered as he carefully moved his body from off of the younger man. "See? I'm moving away now-- there's no need to panic." 

But Blair wasn't listening. As soon as Jim had removed contact, he was scrambling away, eager to put distance between them. Jim still felt arousal pouring through him, knew that Blair felt it too, but he reached within himself for a sea of calm, wanting to find out what had frightened the boy. 

"What we have done-- God will punish us for what we have done! Oh! Is it not wrong enough that I _think_ these things? Must I act on my perversity as well?" 

Jim was astounded. "Perversity? Punish us? Blair, we've done nothing wrong! We were just...." 

"Just practicing unnatural relations! Just going against my people's commandments! Oh, is it not enough that I love you, I desire you?" His eyes widened as he realized what he had just said. "Do you... dust thou see? I am already falling from my people's traditions. I have done something unforgivable." 

He continued, almost hysterical, but Jim was caught on something he had said. "You love me?" 

"Aye! But it is wrong! It is not natural. But I..." he paused, eyes catching on Jim's. Suddenly his face softened, and the tears that had been running down his face glistened in the sunlight. "I fear that I do love thee." 

Almost as if some other force were drawing them together, Blair and Jim began to sway towards one another, their eyes caught. Then, moments from touching, Blair broke away. "I must go back," he muttered as he turned his body away from Jim's, saying through his body language that he did not want to touch. "Please, take me back." 

Jim could feel his world crumbling around him. Was it only just a few minutes ago that he had been happy? It seemed like an eternity. 

"I'll take you home." 

Jim stared disconsoledly up at his ceiling, willing himself to drift off to sleep. He tried to ignore the deep thrumming of his blood and the bright lights of the darkness, tried to dial everything back down into normalcy, but even now that his senses were working again, they still seemed to be beyond his control. The only time that he had control was when Blair was nearby. 

Which could only mean that the other man was his Guide. 

"But that's impossible!" Jim growled into his pillow, willing his mind to shut up. "He would never come from his precious village to live with me, work with me. He'd never...." And yet, the image of Blair being with him every day, every night, made his breath catch. 

Shaking his head furiously, Jim rolled out of the bed and began to pace. "Give it up, man. You've only known him for... what, six days? You can't be in love with someone you barely know." But he was wrong and he knew it. He _was_ in love with Blair, strange as that may have been. It was a love that stemmed from the deep connection of Sentinel and Guide, Warrior and Shaman-- they were the two sides of the same whole, and denying that or scoffing at it would not change anything. He loved Blair. 

"But what am I supposed to do?" he growled towards his spirit guide, his hands running roughly through his clipped hair. "It doesn't do any good for me to recognize it if _he_ won't do anything about it! How am I supposed to convince him to give me a chance? To just let go?" 

The dark eyes of the panther stared at Jim for a long moment, then it stood to it's feet and began to walk away. 

"Hey! Wait! This isn't helping any," Jim called out as the vision began to fade, frustrated and angry. "What am I supposed to do?" 

The panther continued to fade, walking into the distance, and from all around came the mournful howling of a wolf, alone and destitute. 

Jim stood there for a long time, his eyes searching the stillness of his room, his mind turning quickly over what he had seen and heard. The wolf... Blair's spirit guide.... 

Sighing deeply, Jim snagged a jacket and some shoes, too eager to be gone to worry about his state of dress. He had to see Blair and just _talk_ to him. He had to let him know how much he needed him. 

And he could only pray that it would be enough. 

Blair curled up tighter in the warm hay, drawing his blanket about him. His mind kept re-playing the events of earlier that day: the line-up, going out about the town, the glade, the kiss.... He couldn't banish that kiss from his brain, and most importantly, he knew that he really didn't want to. It was something beautiful and wonderful that he could hold on to in the chill of his life without Jim-- the memory of their holding one another in the warm grass, bodies pressed tightly together as they tried to melt into one being. 

That was why he was in the hay loft: Jim had held him here that first night, when he had cried over his sister. It was a memory that never failed to warm him and make him feel safe. He wanted Jim's arms now, wrapped tightly around him so that he knew that, finally, everything would be okay. 

But the world didn't work like that. He couldn't be with Jim-- it was impossible. 

Wasn't it? 

Groaning low in his throat, Blair thrust his face into the bed of hay. No, it was wrong, it was wrong, it was _wrong_! Being with Jim, loving him, wanting to touch him and be touched by him-- these thoughts were not natural. They were just... wrong! 

Then why did they feel so right? 

"I am going mad," Blair muttered to himself, squeezing his eyes shut miserably. "I am absolutely going mad." 

"Please don't." 

Blair started up, his eyes flying open at the familiar voice, curls tangling about his pale face. "Jim! What is thou doing here?" Jim was standing before him, looking absolutely beautiful in the moonlight, and Blair felt panic course through him as he realized that he may not have the strength to pull away again. "Thou should not be here!" He thrust his hands back in an attempt to lever himself to his feet, but his hand skidded back on the hay, dropping his upper body and arms back against the rough wood. A nail raked across his upper arm and shoulder, and Blair hissed in surprised pain as his skin tore. 

"Are you all right, Blair?" Jim asked as he knelt beside the smaller form. He lightly touched his hand the other man's shoulder, wincing when he felt the wet patch of blood. "Here, you need to take this off," he said reasonably as he tugged off Blair's shirt, keen eyes searching along the injury. "It doesn't look too bad-- it's just bleeding a lot, that all." After a moment's hesitation, Jim reached up and stripped off his own shirt, explaining his movements to the wide-eyed Blair as he tore the shirt. "We'll use this as a bandage." 

"But... but thy shirt!" Blair explained as Jim deftly tied the makeshift bandage about him, his nostrils flaring as the strong scent of sweat and flesh met his senses. Jim's bare shoulder was so close to him, almost near enough to kiss. 

"It's an old tee-shirt anyways," Jim explained as he finished his work with one last knot. "I usually just sleep in it now." 

"Oh." Blair couldn't seem to get his mind past the fact that Jim was _here_ with _him_ , and each of them was half-clothed. His eyes dropped down to Jim's smooth chest, tracing the hard definition of muscle with his gaze, wanting so bad to touch those flat, round nipples and see the pucker up as if from cold. "I see." Unable to stop himself, Blair reached out with a tentative hand, barely brushing the tip of his index finger across the perfect nipples. He sighed softly to himself as they hardened just as he imagined they would, and he glanced up through his lashes towards Jim's still face, wonder crossing his features. Compelled by the intense blue, Blair scooted closer. 

"Blair," Jim choked out, his sudden arousal coloring his husky tone. Blair made a questioning noise, but didn't stop in the exploration of Jim's chest, his fingers lightly skating down the stomach to brush across the beginning of Jim's boxers. "Blair!" he tried again, grasping the adventurous hand in his own, making Blair meet his eyes. "Are you sure that this is what you want?" 

Blair froze, realizing suddenly what he had been doing. Was this what he wanted? Was this something that he wanted to live with for the rest of his life? Did he want Jim fort he rest of his life? 

His mind, heart, body and soul answered with a most definite 'yes, yes, and _yes_.' 

"I do," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave as he looked up at his soon-to-be lover. "I really do." 

Jim groaned once, a glad cry, and swooped down to capture Blair's perfect lips, his strong arms wrapping around the warm body as he drew the other man to him. "God, I've wanted you," he murmured against the perfect skin as he trailed his mouth down Blair's arching neck. "I've wanted you so bad." 

"And I the... and I you, Jim." Jim trailed his tongue over a sharply-defined collar-bone, and Blair sighed happily. "And I y... ahhh!" Blair's body jerked and froze when Jim found a nipple with his mouth, and Jim set about to making him writhe, loving the way he twisted and groaned within his arms. He lapped at the defenseless nub with his tongue and lightly bit at it, causing Blair to groan and thrust within his arms. 

"Lay back, love," Jim whispered to the panting Blair, gently pushing him back against the bed of hay. Blair went eagerly, his dilated eyes fixed on Jim with wanton love and desire, and Jim felt his heart pulse even as his groin tightened, for this youth loved his so much... trusted him so much.... He reached out with faintly trembling hands to undo his lover's pants, gently pulling them and the underdrawers down and off the pale legs. Jim choked back a gasp at the beautiful sight laid out before him, his breath catching as his eyes caught on the thrust-out cock, purplish in desire and waiting for _him_. 

Swiftly, he divulged himself of his boxers, pausing a moment to give Blair a chance to get used to him before he slid next to his lover. Their lips touched and clung, tongue's battling wetly, and as Jim pressed himself against the warm body next to him, he knew that he wanted to make this special for Blair. He was a virgin, that much Jim knew, and he wanted this night to be something he would forever look back at with wonder. 

Smiling at Blair's small groan as their mouths parted, Jim traveled down Blair's beautiful body, lips and tongue running over the warm skin. He dipped the tip of his tongue in Blair's belly-button, casing the other man to choke out a mix between a laugh and a sob, and then he was at the thatch of pubic hair and the engorged cock. 

He brushed his fingers over the blunt head lightly, gently rubbing back the fold of flesh. Blair choked out a sob as his hips thrust strongly upwards, and Jim grinned as he opened his mouth to take the tip down against his tongue. 

He could tell by the sobbing breaths and tightening balls that it would not be long, and as he began to trace his tongue over the vein on the underside of the shaft, his teeth lightly scraping over the head, Jim began to pull at his own throbbing erection, wanting them to come for the first time together. 

Blair thrashed his head back and forth as his hips bucked and squirmed, his mouth opened in a silent scream as his entire body tightened in preparation. Jim felt the tell-tale sign of ejaculation, and he circled his tongue one last time around the base of Blair's cock, pumping hard against his own as Blair's hips and lower back lifted off of the ground, the white spurts of semen gushing into Jim's waiting mouth. 

Jim suckled until Blair's penis became loose and flaccid in his mouth, smiling slightly when he realized that, somewhere along the way, he had come as well. He had been so wrapped up in Blair's exhilaration that he had barely noticed. 

Sliding loosely up Blair's body, Jim wrapped his arms tight around the other man and drew him near, his heart singing as Blair thrust his face against his neck and began to drift off to sleep. 

"G'night Blair," he murmured as he kissed the soft hair. "I love you." 

Blair came awake with a start when he realized that it was morning. Or, perhaps it was the scandalized voices that rang in his ears. Whichever, as Blair floundered awake, he realized several very important things: 

1)Jim was not there  
2)He was naked  
3)There was a small ring of shocked male faces looking down at him  
4)He reeked of sex, and  
5)He was totally and irrevocably screwed 

He jumped to his feet and preceded to dress with incredible speed, conscious of the thick silence that filled the barn. He realized with a sinking of his heart that he was being treated as a non-entity until he was given repentance, and as he looked from stony face to stony face, he realized that his penance was going to be _harsh_. 

Well, damned but it had been worth it. 

As he was hurried across the peaceful green, Blair noticed Jim walking towards the barn, and the older cop stopped in his tracks and stared as his lover was ushered roughly towards the old wooden church. He was wearing new clothes, most likely something that he had had balled up within his truck, and as Blair passed, he made a motions as if to ask 'what happened here?' 

Blair passed by him, ignoring his confused and alarmed look: he didn't want to get Jim dragged into this, too. It was bad enough as it was. 

And as Blair was led into the church to face the disapproving elders of the community and God, he had only one thought: 

This was going to _hurt_. 

Jim stared worriedly at the old church from the seclusion of the nearby forest, his teeth chewing nervously on his lower lip. He had only left Blair for ten minutes-- or less!-- to go to the bathroom and find a shirt and jeans he was pretty sure he had somewhere in his truck. It had taken longer than he would have thought to find the old clothes (how did they get beneath the _seat_?) and he had been in a terror of being discovered in his boxers, reeking of sex. Eventually, he had found the old clothes and had been able to clean up a bit, making himself more presentable. Then, with a grin, he had headed back towards his brand new lover. 

Only to find said lover being herded towards the church by a passal of old men who looked as forgiving as death. 

Jim could only imagine what they had found within the barn, and he winced in deep sympathy, wanting badly to rush within the church to the aide of his lover, but he was reasonable enough to realize that he would only cause harm, not good. 

So he waited for three hours, his gaze never wavering from the only entrance or exit, his senses straining to reach his Guide. Was he in pain? Was he embarrassed, ashamed? Defiant? "Are you all right, Blair?" 

~I am fine.~ 

Jim was only faintly surprised at receiving a reply: he and Rafe had an almost connection, after all. They had each been able to tell when the other was in danger. It only seemed reasonable that in having a Guide that he was... intimate with, the connection would be stronger. ~Please stay where thou are- they are leaving the church now.~ 

Moments later, a procession of elders left the church, all silent. Blair was not with them. 

"Blair?" 

~Wait a moment, then thou may come to me.~ There was a small falter in the sense he had of his Guide, and then came a rather weak ~It is not good.~ 

Jim fought back the urge to run to Blair's aid at once, but common sense checked his movements and kept him hovering in the darkness of the underbrush until the last of the men was out of sight. Then Jim rushed forward, clearing the intervening distance within moments, thrusting himself through the church doors, his eyes searching for his Guide. "Blair?" 

He didn't need the soft reply- he could _feel_ Blair there, to his right, and he turned with a horrified gasp when he saw his young lover, fury sparking within his eyes. "The bastards...." 

"We are in a church, Jim," Blair admonished quietly as he moved stiffly towards the older man, biting down on his lip as the pain shot through him. His chest and back was covered in perfect, thin red lines, the blood still trickling from the welts. "Though, I have to admit that my thoughts were not precisely holy when I got these." He motioned weakly to the long welts. 

"Who did this?" Jim's eyes glowed darkly as he stepped near his Guide, fury and indignation rising from him in black waves. In his mind's eye, he was snapping his jaws around the neck of the man who had hurt his mate, drinking the hot blood of recompense. 

"I did." At Jim's uncomprehending stare, Blair continued. "That was a part of the punishment-- that I give myself a lash for every adulterous thought that I harbored." 

"But you're not even married!" 

"I am betrothed- it is the same thing." 

"But..." Jim stared at the strong chest of his lover, his eyes snaking over the many lashes. "But you're _covered_ in welts." 

Surprisingly, Blair grinned at him, his face shiningly sunny. "Well, I've had many, many indecent thoughts about thee." 

Jim raised a single brow at the coy tone, his lips quirking upwards against his will. "Now have you?" He moved forward so that their lips were almost touching. "How many?" 

"I've though of nothing else but thee for days," Blair breathed, his blue eyes dilating as his breath brushed against Jim's parting lips. 

"Hmm...." Unable to resist, unwanting to resist, Jim moved forward the extra space between them to place a light kiss on his lover's perfect mouth. 

"I have also been banished from the village until I find my peace with God," Blair breathed against his gently moving lips. "Though it has not been specified where I am to be banished to." 

"The city perhaps?" He traced his tongue over the bitable lower lip. 

"Perhaps." 

Their tongue's finally met and mated, and Jim ran his hands up into that beautiful curly hair, his eyes closing in pleasure. Hmmm, he could begin to enjoy this penance. 

Until everything shattered. 

"Blair!" The cry was shocked and very female, and the two lovers parted swiftly, their widened gazes turning swiftly to face the shocked Charity and.... 

Blair's father. 

Blair blanched as his father stared at him with dark eyes that could boar holes into granite, taking a step back from the force of that gaze. Jim moved slightly behind and to the side of him so that he could place a gentle hand on the small of his back, mindful of the painful welts that covered the tender flesh. 

"Go get the Council, girl," David Jacobs spoke in a hollow, frightening voice. 

With one last, startled look at the two men, Charity ran out the church, intent on being away from the scene that she could not understand. 

There was a deep silence within the old building, gathering thick and falling in waves on Blair's shaken nerves. Finally, unable to stand the silence, he spoke. "Father, I...." 

"Save your words for God," his father intoned, his stony face frozen without expression. "I do not hear them." 

Blair seemed stunned but accepting, as if it were no more than he expected. 

Jim wanted to say something, wanted to demand that the man recognize his son, but he realized with a sinking of his heart that he would most likely just make a bad situation worse, so he held his tongue and tried to make Blair _feel_ his support. That had to be enough. 

As bad as the long, silent wait had been, the 'trial' was worse. Blair and Jim stood before the gathered elders who looked down at them with strange, half-disgusted, half-pitying looks on their faces, unable to speak even as their fate was determined. Or, more realistically, Blair's fate, for Jim was an outsider and was therefore expected to be perverse. But one of their own.... 

That was nigh near sacrilege. 

Finally, when the quiet discussion wound down, Blair's fate had been decided. 

"Thou hast strayed from the straight and narrow son," the eldest man in the village spoke at the young man, ignoring Jim completely. "Yet did not Jesus say we must forgive? Thou shalt be given a public penance and be married as quickly as possible, for as the Old Testament father who gave his virgin child over to the mob who desired male flesh, thou shalt be given a wife in whom you may lose your sick cravings for unnatural relations." 

Jim stared in shock at the ringed faces of the Council, not believing his ears. Where did they get off spouting this sanctimonious bull shit? Did they actually believe that they had the right to decide what God would accept and forgive and what He would not? Jim wanted to laugh in their faces and leave them behind, but one thing stayed him: Blair. 

Blair had been raised along-side this mind-sent-- what if he accepted their decree? What if he let himself be passed off and married only because it was wrong to be in love with a man? What if, what if.... 

Jim really should have known better. 

"I don't want to." The gathered council stared with shocked faces as Blair moved closer to Jim and laced his arm about his waist. "I'm in love with him, and marrying me off or making me serve penance is not going to change that." 

"Thou shalt be eternally cursed by God!" one of the men choked out, appalled. 

But Blair merely shook his head. "I can't see that a God of love and forgiveness would damn me for being as He made me." 

The soft murmurings of 'sacrilege' and 'can he say that?' flew through the air. The Eldest stood, his severe eyes looking down on the pair of lovers, a grave yet strangely sad look crossing his face. "Then thou shalt no longer have a name amongst us." 

At that, each of the men stood and, crossing themselves ceremoniously, turned their backs. 

Blair and Jim stared at the sea of backs, their arms clutching at each other tightly. Blair seemed on the verge of tears, and Jim felt his own heart aching for his lover, knowing what it was to see nothing but your father's back. 

"Father...." Blair began, perhaps wanting to explain or apologize, Jim never knew which, but the man who bore Blair's name spoke in a hollow, echoing voice that filled the room and floated up to Heaven above. 

"My name is David Jacobs: I have one son, Joseph, and one daughter, Carrol." 

Jim stared in shock and anger, not believing his ears. 

"But, Father..." Blair tried again, the tears choking his voice. 

"My name is David Jacobs: I have one son, Joseph, and one daughter, Carrol." 

Gasping as if in pain, Blair stumbled away, his hands grasping at another man's shoulders. "Uncle, talk to me." 

"Thou hast no name." 

"No." Blair shook his head, as if denying it would make their own denial cease to exist. "No. Abraham," he tried again. 

"Thou hast no name." 

Again and again, no matter who he tried to plead with, he received the same stony reply: "Thou hast no name." 

Finally, choking on his sobs, Blair turned to Jim, a look of anguish on his face. "They won't listen," he whispered brokenly. "They won't let me explain." 

"Come on, Blair," Jim murmured soothingly, drawing the other man to him. "Let's go home." 

"Home?" Together, they began to walk out of the silent church filled with silent, stony men. 

"Yes- home. _Our_ home, at the loft. You'll love it, Blair, I promise...." 

Jim knew his words were of little comfort to the young man who had lost a family and a way of life all in one day, but he continued to speak, hoping that something he said would make it past that bleak mask. "And you can come and help me at the PD- I can always use my Guide with me. And, if you want, you can enroll to take classes at Rainier Universityyou told me how much you enjoyed going to school there." He was desperate to find life somewhere within the silent man. 

"Jim?" Blair's voice was quiet and wavering as he climbed into Jim's truck. Jim paused, leaving the keys in the ignition, and turned his body to face his lover. 

"Yes, Blair." 

"Please tell me that thou-- _you_ \-- love me." 

Quietly, gently. "I love you, Blair." 

"Again, please." 

"I love you." 

Blair sighed and closed his eyes, a small, delicate smile cracking though his grief. "I like that, Jim," he breathed softly. "I like that a lot." 

"I love you and I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. I think that you are vibrant and intelligent and...." 

"All I need to hear is the love part." 

Jim grinned and started the car, his heart sending joyful praises to God that his lover was back. Blair would make it. 

They drove away from the village of Blair's birth and maturity and exile, nearing with every revolution of the wheel a new world and a new life. 

"I love you, Jim," Blair whispered, almost unheard. 

"And I thee." 

Smiling, they clasped hands and looked ahead. 

And left the past behind. 

"You'll be in my heart  
No matter what they say  
You'll be here in my heart, always.... 

Why can't they understand   
the way we feel?  
They just don't trust  
what they can't explain.  
I know we're different, but  
deep inside us  
we're not that different at all.... 

Don't listen to them  
'Cause what do they know?  
We need each other  
to have, to hold.  
They'll see in time, I know.... 

When destiny calls you  
You must be strong.  
I may not be with you  
But you've got to hold on  
They'll see in time  
I know.... 

Oh, you'll be in my heart  
No matter what they say  
You'll be here in my heart always.  
Always." 

-Phil Collins/Disney 'You'll Be in My Heart' 


End file.
